Sleeping Beauty

I was working up on the north east coast at Whitby. It was a long drive from Manchester; too far and too costly to commute each weekend. This was back in the days before there were motorways. I would try to get home every month for about five days. I was working a lot of overtime, so time went by quite quickly. It was just the weekend nights that dragged. I had adopted a local pub, the "Jarvis Arms" not far from where I boarded. It was close enough to walk. The landlady at the boarding house was all right, but I preferred to get out at night rather than sit in my room, or watch the television with Mrs. Bell and her husband.

On a Friday evening, I would often take a book to the "Jarvis", have some pub food then sit over in a corner and have a few pints while I read or just watched the activity in the pub. One Friday, a middle-aged man came over and sat by me.

"I've seen you in here before. My name is Bill. You look like my long-lost brother." he joked. "Same build, same salt and pepper hair, even the same goatee. Can I get you a pint?"

"Hello, Bill, " I replied. " I just got this one in thanks. You a regular?"

He did resemble me; down to his ruddy complexion and northern accent.

"On a Tuesday and Friday, yes. I especially like to get out on a Friday. The wife and I usually have a slap-up meal on a Friday, so I'm always ready for a pint when I get here."

"Doesn't your wife come out with you? Or does she stay back and wash the dishes?" I joked.

"No. I leave them to soak in the sink. My wife, Emma, is a headmistress at a local school." Bill explained. "By Friday, she's totally exhausted and can barely cope. I usually pick up something up from the Indian restaurant and we have a bottle of red wine. Always red! After that she starts on the brandy. By the time I'm ready to come out, I have to help her up to bed where she just collapses and goes straight to sleep. It's the only night she drinks."

"That leaves you free to hit the town then on a Friday night, Bill." I laughed.

"By this time of the week, I'm also ready just to relax and have a few drinks. No energy -- or inclination -- to chase all over town."

"How about you? You're about my age. Do you chase around a lot?" Bill asked.

"You know, I work so much overtime that I just want to take it easy."

I explained that I was working away from home and that the weekend evenings were my only time off.

"You must miss you wife. Especially on a Friday night, good old nooky night." He laughed quietly.

"I do. When I'm home on a Friday, we go out and party. Saturday morning, I lie in and then wake up and enjoy to a good English breakfast."

"How about you? Will the wife be waiting for you when you get back?" I asked.

"No chance. I told you she prefers the brandy to me on a Friday night. I can't even wake her up. Sometimes I just used to screw her anyway, but she wasn't aware of it so it was not much fun."

"Let me get the next round in, Bill" I offered.

We had another pint and enjoyed a pleasant evening of conversation. As the night wore on, we became soul mates relating stories about our lives, loves and work.

When the landlord called "Time" I bid Bill a good night.

"Go home to your wife, Bill." I waved him goodbye. "Give her one from me!"

He laughed, waved, and wandered off home.

The next Friday evening Bill showed up in the pub again. I got us each a pint and we had a game of darts with a noisy group of off-duty policemen. By mid evening, we were back in our corner swapping stories. It was Bill who brought up the topic again.

"That business we were talking about last week; you know, about the wife sleeping through sex on a Friday. Remember?" Bill said.

"Remember what?" I asked.

"You said 'Give her one for me.'"

"Oh yeah! I remember." I laughed.

"Well, I did."

"Did what?"

"I gave her one for you." Bill explained. "When I got into bed, I started feeling her up and ended up banging her. I don't think she even noticed; just slept right through it. It sure wasn't very exciting."

"Maybe your technique is lacking." I laughed. "Maybe you need to inject a little more excitement into your sex life."

"I don't think it's me." Bill lamented. He nodded at one of the big police dart throwers. "Even if that big guy jumped in bed with her, she wouldn't bat an eyelid."

"I think she might notice a man who is a foot taller than you, with blond hair, muscles and no beard!"

Bill laughed. "Maybe you're right there. That might be stretching it a bit too far, if you'll pardon the pun."

Bill went to get another couple of pints. When he got back, he looked a bit more serious.

"You know, that big copper might not get away with it, but someone like you ..."

He stopped, deep in thought.

"You are very similar to me in many ways. Under the right circumstances; a darkened room, my pajamas, my aftershave. Would she notice the difference if she is in a half drunken stupor?" Bill pondered.

"It sounds a bit risky to me. Why on earth would you want another man to get into bed with your wife?"

"Don't you think that would be the ultimate turn-on? To watch another man shag your wife."

"You'd be watching?" My eyes widened in surprised.

"That's the whole point. This is a fantasy that would introduce a whole new dimension to a sex life that's been standing still for fifteen years at least."

"Bloody hell!" I exclaimed. "I'm not sure I could watch somebody screw my wife. I'm not even sure I could have sex with your wife with you standing there watching."

"I wouldn't be standing." Bill corrected me, " I'd be crouching. And if anything goes wrong, you make a quick getaway, and I stroll into the breach dressed, looking and smelling just like you. She would think she'd been dreaming. Planning is the key."

"You are a cunning bastard!" I joked. "Suppose I took you up on the offer, you'd shit yourself."

"Try me." Bill smiled.

"I'll tell you what. We meet here next Friday night. If you still want to go through with it, I'll come home with you." I said.

"It's a deal. See you next week."

We met up again the following week in the Jarvis Arms. Bill was in great spirits. I had been thinking about his proposition all week. Sometimes I just didn't believe he was serious; just stringing me along for a laugh. At other times, particularly when I was in bed alone in my lodgings, I got a tremendous erection just thinking about the prospect. I could not make up my mind if he was on the level. If he was, could I go through with it? This was not like picking up a woman in a pub and ending up having sex with her. This was screwing a man's wife while he looked on. What effect would that have on my performance? And what about his wife? She would just lie there asleep while I fucked her? So many unknowns, variables, frustrations! By Friday evening, I was ready to tell him where to stick his ideas and his planning. But Bill was his usual good-natured self. We sat drinking and talking for an hour without the subject even being brought up. I assumed he must have been putting me on all along, and that I had been reading too much into the situation.

Then about nine o'clock, he asked, "Well, are you ready for our big adventure?"

My heart stopped for a second. Then a tightening in the pit of my stomach.

"You really want to go through with this, Bill?" I questioned.

"I've been thinking about it all week." He said.

"Tell me what to do." I ventured, beginning to feel a bit nervous.

"You come home with me. I go on in and get ready for bed. After about fifteen minutes, I'll let you in the side door. I've got identical pajamas ready for you. Get changed and I'll bring you upstairs. The wife's had an extra drink or two. You slip into bed beside her. It couldn't be simpler."

"Where will you be?" I asked.

"I'll be right there hovering. Don't worry about me." Bill said.

We finished our drinks and left the pub. During the ten minutes it took to walk to his house, Bill went over the plan assuring me that everything would be fine. My confidence built as we walked. Here I was about to get laid! I should be dancing with joy, not worrying. When we got to his place, Bill went on in and I waited in the dark by the side door. After a while, I heard the door open. I looked quite dark behind Bill's smiling face.

"Come on in!" he whispered. As he closed the door behind us, we were in a passageway leading to the kitchen.

"Put these on." He commanded, passing me some pajamas. I got undressed and changed into the pj's, leaving my clothes on a chair in the hall. These were the old fashioned type with string fasteners and an open fly. Bill splashed some aftershave on my cheeks.

"Now follow me upstairs. The house was almost in darkness. A few small lamps glowed in rooms that we passed. At the top of the stairs Bill indicated the bedroom door, which was half open. The dimness of the room was relieved by the soft glow of light from a slightly open door that looked like a bathroom. There was a Queen-size bed against the back wall. On the far side, Bill's wife lay sleeping on her back. The covers were up near her chin. She had dark hair that spread out across the pillow. In this subdued light she seemed like a very good-looking lady! A long face -- quite pale - , straight nose, full lips. Her hands were on top of the covers resting across her chest just below her breasts. Her mouth was slightly open and her breathing heavy. The bed covers on this side were folded back in a triangle. Bill ushered me towards the bed while he crouched down beside the door. I tiptoed over to the bed and quietly slipped in next to Bill's sleeping wife. For a few minutes I just lay there on my back figuring the best way to approach this. I rolled over onto my side and slid my arm to rest across her stomach, my hand resting on her far hip.

'Emma!' I remembered Bill referring to his wife. 'Emma.' At least I knew her name.

Emma was wearing a silk nightdress. I could not tell how long it was, but it felt nice. I moved my hand up and down her hip. I could feel that she was not wearing panties. I brought my hand over and caressed the slight mound of her stomach. Emma certainly was not fat. In fact, she felt in pretty good shape. I caressed her stomach and moved slowly downwards. I could feel her pubic bush through the silk material. My erection was unimpeded by the open crotch of the pajamas.

Emma's legs were just slightly apart. I gently stroked the top of her thighs and with each stroke I worked her nightdress higher. I took my time, enjoying the thrill of caressing her legs and the anticipation of what lay under that nightdress. The feel of bare flesh as I at last reached the hem of her nightie came almost as a surprise. Now I was caressing her bare legs and still working the silk cloth up her body. Finally I reached the pot of gold as my hand touched her bush. I traced my fingers down the vee of her crotch and along the inside of her thighs, lingering in this area for an eternity. I needed to see as well as touch this woman. I slowly got onto my knees and moved the bedclothes back, exposing the wonderful sight of Emma with her nightdress up to her waist. Her dark pubic hair contrasted with the whiteness of her skin. I gently eased her leg over to give me better access to her treasure. I continued to caress her thighs, now moving inward towards her pussy. As I could only touch the front part of her, I soaked my finger in my mouth and moistened Emma's outer lips. The wetter I made it, the easier it was to work one finger in to stroke inside her lips. I held the front lips apart and brought my wet fingers to her clitoris, gently touching it to life. I kept working on this until Emma started to respond a little by easing her hips upward slightly. Still I kept stroking the inside of her lips and twirling my finger around her clit. She opened her legs more and again kept pushing up to meet my attentions. I leaned forward and, holding her lips open with one hand, I worked on her clit with my tongue, while my other hand was slowly working a finger at her entrance. I was soon working one finger way up inside her, and Emma was responding, tightening against it.

I moved around between her legs, trying to lose my pajama bottoms in the process. By the time I was between her legs, Emma had raised her knees and lay there wide open before me. I positioned my dick before her entrance and, grabbing my shaft, stroked her up and down with the knob. She came forward to meet me and I gently eased the head inside her. She felt warm. She felt good. I pushed forward until I was buried inside her. She was now moving her hips around and meeting my every stroke. Her hands were spread beside her head on the pillow. I pushed her nightdress up to expose her breasts, which were gently moving in time with her thrusts. The fucking intensified and speeded up until Emma grabbed my shoulders and gasped and gasped again, her eyes opening wide as she climaxed. After a brief moment in terror of being recognized, I relaxed as Emma closed her eyes and reclined back on to the pillow with an almost purring-like sound. I eased myself down besides her, covering us both with the bedclothes. In the quiet stillness, I could hear Bill breathing heavily. I imagine he had just experienced his own climax.

After a little while I pushed over to the side of the bed and swung my feet onto the floor. I moved towards the door wearing just the pajama top, while Bill followed behind on his knees. When we got down stairs, I turned to face Bill.

He looked ecstatic.

"Fantastic!" he said. "Bloody fantastic!. I've never felt so horny in my life. If I can get it up again, I'll have another go myself."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't need to apologize. I couldn't thank him. So I just smiled, as I got dressed.

"I'll not see you next week as I'm away home, but the week after, I'll meet you in the pub as usual. Right, Bill."

"Right!" he answered. "I'll see you then."

On the walk back to my digs I was filled with strange sensations. Not guilt exactly. Wonderment, I think. I had just been effortlessly laid by a lovely lady, helped by a grateful husband, and each of us was happy in our own way.